


Double Dose

by Sulla



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-13
Updated: 2011-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:42:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulla/pseuds/Sulla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is in response to a <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/5880.html?thread=21166584#t21166584">prompt</a> for the kinkmeme on LJ, which read as follows:<br/>John/Sherlock please.<br/>Sherlock cannot get enough. He especially likes to be taken again straight after. John loves that Sherlock wants him that much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Dose

Sherlock was in his favorite place, with his favorite person, doing his favorite thing, and all was right in the world.

He was currently pressed face-down on the miraculously experiment-cleared kitchen table, arms spread wide so that he could grasp each side, and his left cheek was being rubbed rhythmically against the polished wood by the movements of the man behind him. His trousers and pants were pooled at the bottom of one bare-footed leg, and his purple designer shirt was shoved up around his armpits. His legs were spread wide, and John Watson was behind him, thrusting is sizable cock deep into Sherlock's arse, groaning in pleasure each time he bottomed out in Sherlock's delectable rear.

The height disparity between them that had initially been an issue had been rectified by an Oxford English Dictionary under one foot and a book of Edgar Allen Poe's greatest works under the other, pressed together to form a step to raise John's hips to the optimum height. John was standing upright on the platform, one hand on Sherlock's hip and the other stroking down his back repeatedly, drawing nonsensical designs on the detective's flesh. With each thrust, the table creaked loudly and scraped a half-inch away before sliding perfectly back into place a second later.

John had been taking his time, but the activities of the last hour, from the lengthy kissing to the extended spanking and successive petting that he and Sherlock had engaged in, were taking a toll on John's staying power. His sack was tightening and his balls were drawing up close to his body, clear signs that he was not long for this world. Finally, gripping Sherlock's hips tightly with one hand and clutching the other in the detective's hair, John began to hammer out his last thrusts into Sherlock's red, sensitive arse, and it was with a tremendous grunt that John came, his cock spasming within Sherlock's twitching hole. At the last moment he reached under his partner's body to grapple for his dick, only to find that Sherlock was actually in the process of ejaculating right then, and John's hand was splattered with the white, viscous substance.

They lay there literally joined at the hip for some time before Sherlock's body began to force John's softening dick out of him. When he finally fell all the way out, John spread Sherlock's cheeks wide, checking the rad, puffy and still gaping flesh for any damage, as was his practise when they engaged in vigorous play. Right then Sherlock flexed his anal muscles and the hole winked shut for a moment, oozing out a thin stream of come, which dribbled down his perineum a little ways and then stuck in the pubic hair around the area. John dipped a finger down and in to it, massaging the substance into and around the edge of Sherlock's stretched hole, rubbing it in like a much-prized high-end moisturizer.

John was engaged in watching his fingers playing with his own come, enjoying his body's gentle come-down from the heights of bliss, and he at first didn't hear what Sherlock said.

"What's that, Sherlock?" he asked.

Sherlock raised his voice slightly above a guttural whisper. "Again."

John was taken aback. "What? What do you mean, again?"

"Do it again. Fuck me again. Right now."

John stared at the back of Sherlock's head. "I don't think that's possible right now, Sherlock," he said slowly, taking a moment to glance down at his own glistening but flaccid dick. Sherlock turned his head around to meet John's eyes, and a wicked smile was in evidence on his face. "Five quid says I can have you back inside me coming your brains out within the next fifteen minutes."

John Watson had a bit of a weakness for gambling, and with something that was such a clear win for himself, he couldn't quite turn it down. He patted one fleshy cheek of Sherlock's reddened arse, making the detective groan with desire. "You're on," he said, "do your worst. Or best, I should hope."

No matter what John had said, he found the fact that Sherlock wanted him again already was a major turn-on and a big ego booster. John was looking forward to seeing what the detective would try.

Sherlock started by standing and turning John so that he was off of the book platform and squarely on the floor, leaning back against the table's edge. He then stepped away, to John's amusement, and grabbed a wet flannel from the kitchen sink. He reached down with said flannel and gently cleaned John's dick off from base to head, taking away and residual lube or other matter which may still be clinging to it, considering that they had not used condoms due to mutual discussion and consent.

John's arms were crossed, and his left eyebrow was lifted as he leaned back against the table, but he knew what was coming. Sherlock fell to his knees before John, gently blowing soft breaths over his cock, which had retreated into its foreskin in its unaroused state. Sherlock seemed to fell that it was the place to start, and took hold of John's dick with one hand a softly pulled back the foreskin with the other, exposing the slick, glistening head. The detective then blew gently once more on the exposed head, and against all precedence, John felt himself filling slightly. A tiny bead of wetness appeared at the tip of his cock, and Sherlock seemed to take this as a sign that a bit more action was warranted. He circled the shaft of John's dick with his hand, squeezing once, and then again.

John was expecting this to go on for some time, but did not anticipate Sherlock's next move. The man opened his mouth wide and simply engulfed John's entire cock in his mouth, and immediately began swirling his tongue around and around in circles, suckling and stroking on the semi-soft flesh and very, very soon Sherlock was having a hard time keeping John's whole cock encased.

John himself had nearly shouted at the totality of the stimulation assaulting his prick from all sides; he had never before had someone take him into their mouth while soft. As his cock grew harder in spite of his own wishes, Sherlock had to relinquish more and more of the flesh to the outside air, almost seeming to mourn each inch as it left his mouth.

Finally Sherlock had John fully hard, a state which John would not have believed considering his age and the fact that they had just finished such a fuck as they'd previously had. He looked down to where Sherlock was knelt, and watched in amazement as the crown of black curls shook as the man's head bobbed up and down on John's dick, taking the time to lave the underside with his tongue, flick the tip of his cock with the tip of his tongue and use his right hand to circle the base and alternatively caress and stroke his balls. He sometimes cradled them in his hand and rolled them around, and sometimes dropped his mouth down to suck one perfect oval into his mouth, only to let it go with a loud suckling noise to suck the other testicle in its turn.

John knew he was quickly losing the bet. He was already itching to be in Sherlock's wet, come-slick arse again, but he wanted to enjoy the head for a little longer. Dropping his hands down on to Sherlock's shoulders, he pushed the man backwards until he was sitting on his knees, leaning back against the kitchen cupboards. He straddled the man's thighs and edged close, then took the head of his cock and pointed it at Sherlock's waiting and open mouth.

"Stick out your tongue, Sherlock," he breathed. Sherlock didn't hesitate and the tip of his tongue was quickly out on display.

John took his fully engorged dick in hand and pulled the foreskin all the way back, then lay the wet, dripping head on Sherlock's tongue for a moment, before pulling it off and then slapping it down again. He set up a rhythm, tapping his cock against Sherlock's tongue, and soon growing bored with this, he edged his hips even closer and rubbed the head of his dick and then the shaft as well over the planes of Sherlock's face. His cock traced those chiseled cheekbones, stroked over his eyes and eyebrows, and painted Sherlock's lips with pre-come. Finally he nudged his way back into John's mouth and then took hold of the man's head with both hands.

John slowly shoved himself into Sherlock's mouth, allowing the man time to ask him to stop, slow down or pull back. He didn't. So John pushed forward until the head of his cock was lodged up against Sherlock's gullet. He pulled back out for a moment, hearing Sherlock take in a deep, gasping breath while he had the chance, and then slid back in. This set of movements he repeated over and over again, speeding up as he went along. Sherlock had no time to swallow, so long strings of spit began to drip from the corner of his mouth, and every time John bottomed out against Sherlock's throat, a wet clicking sound was heard. As the pace became frantic, the gurgling and clicking sounds increased, and Sherlock began to groan, causing the most delightful vibrations to shoot through John's cock. There was so much saliva that it was dripping into puddles on Sherlock's thighs, and the detective's eyes were beginning to water

Finally John realized that he had brought himself to the brink of orgasm again, and that he hadn't kept up his end of the bargain - Sherlock wanted him in his arse again. Well, nothing pleased John more than pleasing Sherlock, so finally he stilled his hips and pulled out of the man's mouth, looking down to see how Sherlock felt about the proceedings thus far.

Sherlock's face was flushed, his eyes half-lidded, and his mouth slightly open, breath coming in desperate little pants. He smiled beatifically up at John when he noticed him looking, one of those truly rare 'real' smiles that John treasured each and every time he managed to entice one out of the man.

John reached down and grasped Sherlock by the arms. "Up, up Sherlock. I want you on your back this time, on the table. I want to see your face as you come yet again, you great,spoiled creature."

Sherlock half-heartedly glared at him; Sherlock seemed to be rather embarrassed by the faces he made when he orgasmed; it had taken several weeks of coaxing after the start of their sexual relationship for him to allow John to see him come without his hands over his face. The reason behind this, Sherlock explained is that in his experience, people who were in the throes of orgasm never looked more foolish in their lives than at that very point, an so he did not want anyone to see him looking so bloody ridiculous, even John Watson. Especially John Watson, the only man Sherlock really respected.

The detective stood and moved into position on the table. John promptly pulled Sherlock's knees up and pushed them back towards his chest, arching the man's back so that his cock and balls were on display for the world to see - if only the world were present. John again checked the man's hole - still wet, slick with come, but also still slightly puffy and red - and added a little lubricant from the nearby bottle with one hand. He took the remainder of the stuff on his hand and slicked his own rock-hard cock with it. Really, the quality of this second erection was simply unheard-of. Sherlock turned John on like no woman ever had, that was absolutely self-evident.

John stepped back on his platform of books and lined his cock up with Sherlock's anus. He paused.

"Do you want it, Sherlock?" he asked playfully.

"Need you ask?" replied Sherlock, obviously attempting to sound contemptuous, but merely coming off as desperate.

"Ask for it."

Sherlock whined and tried to push his body downwards to impale himself on John's dick, but John wasn't having it and pulled away. Sherlock was stroking his own cock fervently, but it was obviously that he was counting on being filled.

"nnnnn....need you, John. Fuck. Fuck me."

 

John didn't have the heart to make him beg any more than that. He shoved forward with all his strength and impaled Sherlock in one try, burying himself right down to his balls. His sack was flush with Sherlock's arse, and John reveled again in the sensation of Sherlock's cock flexing down upon him. He paused for only a few moments, and then picked up a long, slow, sensuous rhythm, taking his hints from the strokes Sherlock was giving his own cock. When the detective sped up, so did John. When Sherlock slowed down, John did was well.

John enjoyed this position quite a bit, because it allowed him to watch Sherlock's face and to kiss him during sex. They spent some time at that, John never ceasing in his thrusts, and he knew Sherlock was close, very, very soon due to his sudden lack of coordination in his kisses. John even found his nose being tongued for a moment right before Sherlock came once more. This time his semen came out in more of a dribble than a jet, most likely due to the two previous climaxes he had enjoyed that day.

John stood upright again, using his hand to rub Sherlock's come into the skin of Sherlock's belly and staring into his mates eyes as his hips juttered to a stop, burying himself as deep as he could go, planting his come far within Sherlock's rectum, which was still rippling around his cock from the detective's own orgasm.

John knew what was coming. Three, he thought, two, one...

"I win."

"I know you did, you fool."

Sherlock smirked with superiority. Then his face took on a considering look.

"Double or nothing?"


End file.
